Total pages in book: 180
Estimated words: 176012 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 880(@200wpm)___ 704(@250wpm)___ 587(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 176012 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 880(@200wpm)___ 704(@250wpm)___ 587(@300wpm)
Noah Van der Berg is about my age, maybe a few years older, and the star of JT Racing, my brother’s company. Jared recruited Noah after he met Noah’s father, who constructs custom motorcycles for the Motocross circuit. My brother makes engines, so JT Racing and Van der Berg Extreme are just short of being married to each other.
And Noah, I hear, leapt at the chance to leave his secluded childhood home in the Rocky Mountains to come race for my family.
That’s about all I know—other than I’ve seen him with at least two different girls on the back of his motorcycle since I returned home a month ago. We haven’t formally met.
I search my brain for how to make them go away, but Farrow finally steps up to his side. “Take off, Van der Berg.” He throws the other guy a look through hooded eyes. “I’m working out with her.” Then to me, “Dylan sent me.”
“Yeah, she sent me too,” Noah retorts.
Farrow steels his spine, looking away and grumbling, “Fuckin’ Dylan…”
Yeah, pretty much. This is her plan, because she thinks two good-looking men at my side will make Lucas jealous.
Or it could make him not talk to me at all! Did she think about that?
I throw the croissants into the nearby trash can, avoiding both of their eyes. “What did she tell you?” I whisper.
Farrow shrugs. “She said you just moved back home, and that we should be friends.”
Noah adds, “And I’m not allowed to make a pass unless—”
“Until…” Farrow interrupts him before looking back to me. “Until it’s very obvious that you want me to.”
I feel my face flush, and I almost roll my eyes to distract from it, but I resist.
Farrow Kelly might be only twenty, but there’s something in his eyes that tells me his game level far exceeds Noah’s, and it’s not even in regards to women. The Green Street tattoo—simply the word RIVER etched with a line stricken down the middle—stretches vertically on the left side of his neck. Like Mace’s.
Green Street is a gang in Weston, the dilapidated mill town across the river that’s been hanging by a thread since a flood drove most of its citizens away more than twenty years ago. Houses sit abandoned, businesses remain closed, and whatever law does exist is only for hire. I don’t know what goes on at Green Street, but I do know Farrow has a seat at the adult table and his blond hair, a shade lighter than Noah’s, is often under a black ski cap at night. Light hair doesn’t disguise the blood splatter, does it?
But they both have eyes that look like they’re constantly smiling even when they aren’t, and I don’t think that’s fake.
“She also said I should give you a ride home,” Noah continues, ignoring Farrow, “so your brothers know you’re safe.”
“A ride home on your motorcycle?” Farrow teases him.
“Jared likes me,” Noah points out to him. “In fact, all of her brothers do. And all of her family.”
“Nuh-uh,” Farrow barks at him. “Dylan and Hunter are mine.”
My gaze flies to Noah.
“No, you don’t get Dylan,” he continues to argue. “I share a bathroom with her.”
“Fuck off, Stoner Mountain Boy.”
“I don’t smoke weed, you little shit!”
“You’re from Colorado,” Farrow bickers.
I can’t help it, but my eyebrows are up by my hairline, amusement taking over.
I’ve seen them both around, been in rooms they’ve been in and heard them talk to Dylan, Hunter, Jared, et cetera, but I’ve never dealt with them personally.
I’m not really intimidated, though. They remind me of my brothers.
And Kade, Hunter, and Hawke, for that matter. I don’t know about Farrow, but Jared obviously trusts Noah enough to let him live under his roof with his teenage daughter, when she’s not at college or the camp, that is.
“You guys can stay if you want,” I tell them, veering around Farrow, toward the track. “Or you can go. I’m just exercising, and I don’t need a ride home, but thank you.”
Noah sidles up to my right. “I’ll stay,” he tells me. “In case you change your mind.”
“I’m here anyway,” I hear Farrow say just behind me.
“Wanna jog?” Noah gestures to the empty lanes.
I take a quick glance, not seeing Lucas. Did he get off the track?
He might not talk to me if they’re hanging around.
But…at least this way, it doesn’t look like I came here looking for him. Noah and Farrow give good cover, I guess.
I nod, and Noah walks with me.
“Ah, shit,” I hear Farrow say. He stops, staring at his phone. “I’ll catch up.”
“You mean at the weights, because mafia meatheads can’t do cardio?” Noah taunts.
Farrow doesn’t respond, just shoots Noah a look as he grabs himself between his legs and jerks once before spinning around and walking away, his phone to his ear.
Lucas breezes past, casting us a sideways glance, and then he’s gone again.